Cheesecake and Cicadas

The big ssshhhhhh noise you hear coming out of Chicago is the sound of a woman finally exhaling. My husband's exams are over, his writing competition is over, and as long as I can block out any thoughts about his results, I can breathe in, too.

Today I even took a nap.

Unless you have at least two children and a workaholic husband, you may not grasp the significance of that statement. Naps for the stay-at-home mom are risky undertakings that rarely occur intentionally. Most of my naps sneak up on me while I'm sitting on a couch watching my toddler prowling for sharp objects or writing utensils. They happen when I'm least prepared, and at the worst possible times, i.e. seconds before said toddler actually discovers a working ballpoint under a chair.

Half an hour later I awaken to a blunt object being bashed into my head, a stream of drool pulling under my chin, gleeful cackles, and black squiggly lines adorning my walls and couches. I ought to have a large sign over my couch reading:

Nap At Your Own Risk!

But today my husband was home with nothing better to do than take care of the kids while I went into my room, closed the door, snuggled under a blanket, and glory of glories, slept like a baby. I mean, the proverbial baby that supposedly sleeps; not my real, sleep-resistant bundles of energy.

And I awoke to happy children and a delicious hot supper. And clean furniture. Ssssshhhhhh.

We spent the weekend in Skokie at the home of one of my Skokie Girls. She graciously welcomed us into her beautiful home, fed us several fabulous, elegant meals, and single-handedly took the weight of the world off our shoulders. Her eight year old son doted on my toddler. He played with her, fed her, and even cuddled with her. She was positively smitten. When he was around, she wriggled out of my arms and reached up for him. Even her big brother couldn't compete with the lure of this sweet, handsome older boy.

And I was too busy stuffing my face with a third serving of avocado salad to care.

My daughter played non-stop with the triplets. I only saw her when she was hungry, or someone took a toy away from her. Big brother kept himself busy, entertained and mostly out of sight with soccer games outside, and toy guns and an over sized Darth Vader helmet inside.

But I was too busy kicking back a cosmopolitan and talking politics to notice.

We didn't even mind the two girls staying up and whispering back and forth hours after everyone else had fallen asleep.

It was a fun, fattening, relaxing Shabbat for us all. I especially loved visiting a new synagogue and hanging out at the playground where I got to see the other Skokie Girls out of their natural habitat: minivans.

On Tuesday, my husband starts his Summer jobs as a research assistant and a teaching assistant for the international LLMs. He'll also be taking a class in Negotiations.

I'm trying to stay optimistic. It won't be so bad. He'll work set hours, and one class won't be too taxing. After all, who knows more about negotiations than the father of elementary school kids? Maybe after this class we'll have a prayer.

On Tuesday we're also expecting the coming of the cicadas. This has been the big buzz in Chicago this week. Brood X emerges every 17 years to terrify squeamish housewives.

The cicadas will be coinciding with Shavuot, the Festival of Weeks. It is one of the most important Jewish holiday, in that it commemorates God giving the Jewish people the Torah. It is our crowning, defining moment. And how do we celebrate it? Think of a disproportionately lactose intolerant people on a cheesecake binge, and you'll get the idea.

I personally love Shavuot. I've been a vegetarian since I was 12 years old, so I know a thing or two about preparing dairy meals. This year I'll be forgoing the traditional lasagnas, blintzes, and cheesecakes for Salmon en Croute, stuffed roasted peppers, and a chocolate and chili oil tart, assuming I can find a kosher chili oil. I may have to infuse my own.

I will not be staying up all night to learn.

I'm actually quite excited about cooking tomorrow. My husband will be home to help out. He's even planning on taking the kids out to the park, so I can cook without having to stop what I'm doing every ten minutes to pull my child off the piano, or the dining room table, or the tops of bookshelves.

And maybe I'll even take a nap.

Without a helmet.

Sssshhhhhhh!